Editing Story:Pax Imperialis (section)

== A Plan ==

“The butchers bill does not exactly make for good dinner reading, unless you’re more morbid than I thought, ma’am.”

The faint clink and clatter of knives and forks stilled for a moment. Vyn, though, didn’t look up from her data slate, her eyes singling out a name among the others: Kelvin McConnik, wounded (serious). She didn’t even pay attention to the meal. The cook had pulled out a grox from the lower cargo holds and cooked the left leg for them, with spices and garnish and grubweed and broccoli and other assorted sides.

The upper officers – Desna, Janus, Ships Master Kennik, three of the midshipmen who happened to be related to blue blooded naval lineages and the chief chirgeon, Balthezar – all sat around the table. All of them gaped at Kennik, who kept watching Vyn.

“Kennik,” Balthezar said, looking across the table at the scarred Ships Master. “We lost almost four thousand one hundred and forty souls today. Another two thousand and twenty will need new limbs or will die in agony tonight. Show some respect.”

“The question is will we get a chance to pay them back, that’s more important than respect.” Kennik sipped from his grog – he took grog at their dinners, despite there being several selections of wine, amasec and whiskey. 

“Aye!” Bran, one of the midshipmen, spoke up. He stood. “That was a coward’s trick! A minefield? Who does that?”

“Bran, sit down.” Vyn said, her voice soft. She looked up at the table. The rest of the upper officers looked back at her. “The enemy is not a coward. Luring an Imperial ship into a minefield, especially in a lubber like a Lunar class, is a dangerous proposition…especially considering the risks of putting one’s back to a gravity well.“

“Can we really call her a Lunar? She’s bedecked in who knows what [[Chaos]] filth.” Janus frowned.

Vyn’s looked at her hands, her face still somber. She glanced at the data slate, at the name, once more. Then she looked up and smirked. “We’ll burn the sigils off her and tow her back to Fleet Base Signus. They can consecrate her there and bring her back into the fold.”

There was absolute silence, save for the hum of the air ventilators and the tinkling noise of the chandelier that hung overhead. The room, thanks to its location in the middle of the command spire, had avoided any major damage, save for a few paintings being knocked off the walls.

“You don’t intend to…to capture her. Ma’am, none here doubt your courage, but a Lunar puts to the void with ninety five thousand souls!” Janus looked at the others, then back at Vyn. “We’ll be outnumbered four to one.”

“We’re still conducting basic repairs and they have auspex on the asteroid field. They’ll see us the instant we move.” Desna frowned. “Not to mention our macrocannons are spent. Only by the grace of the Emperor did we keep the torpedo deck.”

Vyn grinned at the lot of them. “You doubt your commander?” 

There was a sullen silence.

“We have an ally coming, one that we know about and the ''End of Days'' doesn’t,” Vyn explained. “This solar system is a layover point for the chartist trade ships. According to our [[Navis Nobilite]]…” She glanced at the empty chair. Their navigator was always invited, as per naval custom. And, as per navigator custom, the navigator refused to arrive. Rumors as to why varied. Vyn herself had actually seen the navigator face to face, and knew the truth: It was remarkably hard for such a…large individual to move beyond his suspension tank. “A chartist vessel will arrive here in one to three days.”

The midshipmen, being newest, and youngest, opened their mouths to protest, but Kennik, being an older hand, glared them into silence. In that silence, Vyn continued.

“But to take advantage of their arrival, we will need to make some…preparations.”

She smirked, her knife cutting into groxmeat. She lifted it to her mouth, slid the meat in, and started to chew.

And then, once she swallowed, she started to lay out the preparations.

The officers started to grin.